If artistic ambition was all that counted in a new musical, Black No More would be an unalloyed triumph.
This daring work inspired by George S. Schuyler’s 1931 Harlem Renaissance novel, considered a prime example of what later came to be known as “Afrofuturism,” features a dizzying array of talent both onstage and off. Tariq Trotter (“Black Thought”) of The Roots wrote the lyrics and contributed to the music; John Ridley, who won an Oscar for his screenplay 12 Years a Slave, wrote the book; veteran director Scott Elliott handled the staging; modern dance pioneer Bill T. Jones provided the choreography; and the cast includes such powerhouse performers as Brandon Victor Dixon, Tamika Lawrence, Lillias White, Ephraim Sykes, Howard McGillin, and Jennifer Damiano.
Unfortunately, despite its many powerful elements, the musical receiving its world premiere from Off-Broadway’s The New Group turns out to be something of a mess. Never achieving a consistent tone and lacking the satirical comic bite that would have made its anti-racist messaging seem less heavy-handed, the show needs a lot of tweaking if it hopes to fulfill its obvious Broadway ambitions.
[Read David Finkle’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
Trotter also performs the pivotal role of Dr. Junius Crookman, who has invented a device that can turn Black people white. The scientist claims that his goal is to eradicate America’s race problem, but his motivations are not entirely altruistic. He finds a willing guinea pig in Max Disher (Dixon), who has instantly fallen in love with a beautiful blonde white woman with whom he briefly danced in a Harlem speakeasy. Although she clearly returned his interest, their dangerous budding romance got nipped in the bud by her racist brother (Theo Stockman).
Upon his transformation via the Black No More device (amusingly rendered by a barber’s chair), Max heads to Atlanta to begin a new life. He’s quickly taken under the wing of the elderly, racist Reverend Givens (McGillin), who enlists him to join his organization the Knights of Nordica (think Ku Klux Klan). It turns out that Givens’ daughter, Helen (Damiano), is the same woman Max had met in Harlem. She clearly doesn’t share her father and brother’s prejudices, but is too afraid to say so. Not long after, the reverend not only appoints Max the “Grand Exalted Giraw of the Knights of Nordica,” but also, much to her consternation, gives his daughter’s hand in marriage. Max soon finds that juggling his double life proves difficult, especially when Helen, who doesn’t love him in his new incarnation, becomes pregnant.
Ridley’s choppy book lurches from one episode to another without establishing any depth in its characterizations or themes, unless you count a late scene in which Max addresses the audience directly with a soliloquy in which he implores us, in none-too-subtle fashion, to “stop fucking hating.” Several of the characters, who presumably were better defined in the book, feel extraneous, including Agamemnon (Sykes), a Harlem social activist firebrand, and hair salon owner Madame Sisseretta (White), the latter based on the real-life pioneering Black businesswoman C. J. Walker. The musical feels needlessly protracted at more than 2.5 hours, and there are so many would-be endings that you begin to think that Ridley couldn’t decide among multiple drafts of the script.
The show proves more impressive in its theatricality than substance. Elliott delivers a propulsive staging, helped mightily by Jones’ strikingly innovative choreography, which provides one of the evening’s most memorable moments: A newly white Max attempts to blend in with groups of white and Black dancers, and fails with both, vividly illustrating that he may have changed the color of his skin but now doesn’t really fit in anywhere. Jeff Croiter’s dramatic lighting design well compensates for the minimal scenery which mainly consists of giant red letters spelling out “HARLEM” and “NORDICA,” and Qween Jean’s costumes, varying from period-appropriate to modernistic, are consistently arresting as well.
The score by Trotter and his collaborators skillfully incorporates a variety of musical styles but leans heavily toward hip-hop and rap, the latter of which proves a skill that not all of the performers are quite up to. Although not a sung-through musical, there are lots and lots of songs numbers, nearly three dozen in all, making it feel bloated. But there is no denying the musical vibrancy on display, especially as sung by the talented cast. Lawrence and White, in particular, are vocal powerhouses who consistently bring down the house.
And then there is Dixon, whose talent and charisma have long been recognized on New York stages and who perhaps delivers career-best work here. He’s forced to do much of the show’s heavy lifting, and is never less than riveting. The same, alas, can’t be said of Trotter, who as an actor makes a fine musician.
There’s much to admire in Black No More, which makes its inability to stick the landing all the more frustrating. Too often, you become painfully aware of the show’s gears grinding as it struggles for importance.
